I am officially on the committee for the Wycliffe Dinner Theater First Presbyterian Church performance. I think my official duties will be congregation spokesperson, host home, and overall information for the people arranging housing, servers and dishwashers. I'm really glad I get to help out where I can.
Maybe I can convince the homestays not to give them standwitches and fried eggs.
We don't have to move out and tear up the shop just yeat. Roto Rooter seems to have taken care of the problem, and we were able to spend last night in our own apartments. I've messed up my back again, so lugging the cats up and down stairs was not going to be high on my list of fun.
I'm reading an interesting book on "Rich Christians in a hungry world" or something like it. The statistics in part one are boring. Not that they aren't good to know, but I've read other books that covered them, and put them into context, etc, without going into GNP. The second part is the biblical basis for his worldview. A good skim, though I intend to go back and read it. And the third part is the practical application, what organizations do what, etc. I intend to research his appendix. Compassion Internations, World Vision and Habitat for Humanity were on there, which I already know a little about. We'll see about some of the rest of them.
The flooding in the basement turns out to be completely unrelated to our little bathroom incident of a week ago. Not completely. It isn't the pluming on that side of the building that's the problem. It's the main pluming.
The shop is open, but we have a portapotty in the back for emergencies, and Nan and I are having to vacate the premises for the time. I think I'm leaving the cats there. I'll be there at least once a day to grab clothes and feed them.
Thank God I have family in town. Otherwise I'd be racking up credit card bills paying for hotels. I hope we get "vacation pay" if they have to close the shop.
I'm in a frenzy of crafting and reading this weekend. Last night I read Douglas Adam's Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to compare the movie. I'm in a Lord Peter Wimsey sort of a mood, so I checked out 5 of those from the library. And today at church I nabbed G. K. Chesterton's Father Brown Mysteries. And a book on William Barclay's testimony. It might help decipher some of his theology if I know where he's been.
Speaking of which, he and I had a serious disagreement over his summary of Acts 2. As regards the Pentecost:
"On these grounds it is much more likely that this passage refers to that strange yet coveted gift of speaking with tongues. To speak in foreign languages was unnecessary. The passage says that the crowd was made up of Jews and proselyte...Now for a crowd like that at most two languages were necessary. Almost all Jews spoke Aramaic; and even if they were Jews of the Dispersion from a foreign land, they would speak that language which almost everyone in the world spoke at that time - Greek. Greek had become the world language which everyone spoke in addition to his own tongue. In point of fact, Aramaic and Greek, which the disciples must anyhow have spoken, would be quite sufficient. It seems by far most likely that Luke, A Gentile, had confused speaking with tongues with speaking with foreign tongues.
I find it hard to believe that Luke, with a Jewish mother and Greek father wouldn't recognize that the disciples, were in fact, only speaking two languages. And secondly, the passage says:
And how is it that each one of us hears them speaking in our own language in which we were born? Parthians and Medes, Elamites, those who stay in Mespotamia in Judaea and Cappadocia, in Pontus, in Asia, in Phrygia and Pamphylia, in Egypt and the parts of Libya round about Cyrene, Romans who are staying here, Jews and proselyte, people from Crete and Arabia - we hear these men telling the wonders of God in our own tongues.
Sorry, Mr Barclay, it doesn't sound to me like they were hearing God speaking to them in the trade language. And to quote the Central American Native who started Cameron Townsend on a mission, "If your God is so big, why doesn't he speak my language?"
That is my only real beef with William Barclay. He goes out of his way to prove that all miracles and "Acts of God" might be easily explained by natural phenomenon. I don't see why God using nature means that he had nothing miraculous to do with it "acting up." And it doesn't offend my logic that the disciples were preaching and everyone heard it in their own tongue. For two rather unorthodox examples; consider the babblefish and the Star Trek viewscreens. In both cases each party speaks their own language, and as far as they can tell, the other party is speaking the same. How they babblefish and communicators make their lip movements synch is one of the never ending mysteries of the Sci Fi universe, but it fits.
Anyone who wants to better stretch his mind around God's conundrums should read more sci fi.
This morning I was called for an interview at a set of hotels in town. They wanted me for restaurant (which could have been tricky, considering I wouldn't be allowed to cocktail or bartend as per my contract with my current job), but then changed their minds and want me to interview for front desk instead. And a dropped off my application at an espresso bar at the bottom of a doctors office near my church. They will be interviewing next week, and I have hopes of getting one.
In other news, my roast chicken is now a pot pie. Yummy. And for dessert...cherry pie. I'm feeling domestic. I may bake bread this weekend.
Today was an all day seminar at the Lost Creek Camp. Our speaker was a no-show, so the Director gave us all a day of fun since we'd driven the hour to get there.
I rolled my eyes, commenting, "I'm in hell!" because I'd just finished saying to Nancy that I was glad it was a seminar and not 'enforced fun' which I really don't like.
Actually, it was really fun.
First we were given a sheet of paper where all our names were turned into an anagram. My team of three won well ahead of the rest. 10 points. Then we had to make larger groups and were given 18 nails to balance on the head of 1 nail in a piece of lumber. Paul said, "stand back! I saw this at the fair." My team won again.
In small groups we each were given a sheet of paper where color names were written in colored ink. We had to read the actual colors, not the color written. I was the only one in my group that made it down the page. 5 points. But we only came in second on the trivia. Who knew it was possible to forget that deoxyribonucleic Acid was DNA. I knew that! (For the record, I did remember that Pegasus was Apollo's horse)
After lunch they took us out to the camp's ropes course. There were four of them. First, a two rope walk between two trees. You had to walk on one while holding onto the other. Second, a log bridge suspended 35' high between another two. Then, the Leap of Faith. I climbed 62' up a tree, stood on a platform, jumped for a trapeze, caught it, and then let go while I fell to the ground. I was, of course, harnessed in for all of them. And I only got twisted up in the harness on the Leap of Faith. Five points each. And last, Paul and I successfully attempted the ladder. 4 bys were roped into a ladder, each run 6" farther apart than the last as you climb. It's a two man job, and you have to climb up each other to make it to the next rung. About the third we worked out a system where I planted my hind foot behind and made a step with my left knee. He'd step on my knee, and then pull me up after him. We made it to the top -- 5 points each. I was one of four who even tried, and the only girl. Janel did the others with me. We had to represent.
Then, they took us up to the firing range to try our skill at throwing knives, hatchets, and firing rifles. I fired one alright, but hit nothing. I didn't use the stand because I wanted to feel what it was like. I did manage to get the knife into the stump once.
Then it was time to tally points and go home. Paul beat me. But I came in second, followed by Janel. As it should be! We wore ourselves out!
After a lengthy chat with Vivien still on Merlin's lap, playing with his beard, his wisdom overcomes his ardor, and he denounces her mentally for her trickery. She overhears the word 'harlot' on his breath and gives every impression of a noblewoman wrongfully accused. She calls on heaven to strike her with lightening if she has lied, and indeed, a bolt strikes a nearby oak tree. She flies into Merlin's arms begging him to save her, swearing her fealty. Merlin, half believing and weary gives in at last.
...And what should not have been had been,
For Merlin, overtalk'd and overworn,
Had yielded, told her all the charm, and slept.
Then in one moment, she put forth the charm
Of woven paces and of waving hands
And in that hollow he lay as one dead,
And lost to life and use and name and fame.
Then crying, "I have made his glory mine,"
And shrieking out, "O fool!" the harlot leapt
Adown the forest, and the thicket closed
Behind her, and the forest echo'd "fool."
Maybe I can't substitute Gandalf. He would never have fallen for it. At some point he would have said "Fool of a Took!" and thrown her down the nearest mineshaft. Besides, Merlin had a fatal weakness that Gandalf did not: he was human. Gandalf was something akin to an angel, or at least a principality.
I am on a roll decorating. I try to do one improvement to my rooms each evening, depending on what's lying around the store at any given time.
I've had my eye on an old brass chandelier, the type the go over a dining room table, for my room. Take off the lantern parts, I thought, and put a couple of decorative shades on it instead, and maybe loop a few strands of beads from the arms, and it might be pretty cute. And I can say that without emendation because I am referring to very girly things. And anything is better the fluorescent light.
First order of business; single handedly taking down the old fixture. No easy task when you have one stepladder, two arms, and the fixture is as long as you are tall. But I managed by opening the door and propping the end I'd already unscrewed. Getting the chandelier up while I fixed it to the hardware was much harder. As I screwed in one part, the other parts would unscrew, and I'd be back where I started. In the course of all the jiggling (wow, this has suddenly become very suggestive -- one two many viewings of Down with Love), one of the wires came untwisted, and I had to take it all down and rewire. Then I forgot to turn the electricity back off, and nearly electrocuted myself. Cool sparks though.
To my relief it was just a wiring glitch and I hadn't shorted out the entire fixture. Minus the proposed embellishments, it looks lovely.
Much better than fluorescent. I feel less green.
I'm skipping around in Idylls of the King and after a double dose of Jane Austen, it's almost shocking. The characters are lustier, less gentile, and nothing of the parlor about them.
Vivian attempts to undo Arthur's court by whispering rumors of Guinevere's infidelity. She then gains a new challenge -- conquering the old Merlin who would wish for love in his old age. Seeing the danger of her wiles he flees, and she follows. Her real aim is learning a spell he told her of which would trap whomever she wills into four wall of an enchanted tower, so he could see no one but her, and no one could rescue him.
There lay she all her length and kissed his feet,
As if in deepest reverence and in love...
..."O Merlin, do ye love me?" and again,
"O Merlin, do ye love me?" and once more,
"Great Master, do ye love me?" he was mute.
And lissome Vivien, holding by his heel,
Writhed toward him, slided up his knee and sat,
Behind his ankle twined her hollow feet
Together, curved an arm about his neck,
Clung like a snake; and letting her left hand
Droop from his mighty shoulder, as a leaf,
Made with her right a comb of pearl to part
The lists of such a beard as youth gone out
Had left in ashes... "I am silent then,
And ask no kiss;" then adding all at once,
"And lo, I clothe myself with wisdom," drew
The vast and shaggy mantle of his beard
Across her neck and bosom to her knee,
And called herself a gilded summer fly
Caught in a great old tyrant spider's web,
Who meant to eat her up in that wild wood
Without one word. So Vivien called herself,
But rather seemed a lovely baleful star
Veiled in gray vapour; till he sadly smiled:
"To what request for what strange boon," he said,
"Are these your pretty tricks and fooleries,
O Vivien, the preamble? yet my thanks,
For these have broken up my melancholy."
Try and reconcile this Merlin to the Disney one. Presta-digi-tonium indeed!
